


Must Try Harder

by lost_spook



Series: 50 Ficlets - Claim Kenny Phillips, Press Gang [5]
Category: Press Gang
Genre: Backstory, Community - 50ficlets, Episode Tag, Episode s0104 Deadline, Gen, School
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-31
Updated: 2010-10-31
Packaged: 2017-10-12 23:57:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/130562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_spook/pseuds/lost_spook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Does Mr Sullivan really hate Kenny?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Must Try Harder

**Author's Note:**

> No spoilers, but in _Deadline_ in S1 Kenny claims that Mr Sullivan hates him. Given that Sullivan is an excellent teacher who lists Kenny as one of the brightest pupils at Norbridge High, this is either Kenny's misconception, or there's a reason…
> 
> Written for LJ comm 50ficlets prompt 'talk to me'.

_Kenny: "Why me?"  
Lynda: "Sullivan likes you."  
Kenny: "Sullivan hates me!"  
Lynda: "All right, Sullivan knows you. Now go!"_ (S1, Deadline).

***

 **Second Year Report**   
_English (B/C+)  
Kenny is doing well in English and his written work is always of an exceptionally high standard. However, his oral skills need considerable work, although I remain hopeful that he will one day contribute a coherent sentence to a class discussion instead of allowing Lynda Day to do his talking for him. _

Good work, but must try harder.

***

 **First Year Dare**

"Stay there," said Lynda. "Anyone comes, you knock on the door."

Kenny glanced nervously at the taller pupils passing by them in the corridor. "Lynda, I don't think you should be doing this."

"It's mine," she returned, straightening her satchel with a sharp tug. "He's forgotten about it, and I want it back!"

He frowned. "Well, you could ask him. You don't have to sneak into his classroom and raid the desk."

Lynda broke into an impish grin. "No, but it's more fun. Don't be so pathetic, Kenny. All you have to do is stand here. Think you can manage that, Phillips?"

She crept inside, and he waited out in the corridor, his back against the wall, as if he'd been sent out of the room in disgrace, wishing she'd hurry up.

"Kenny Phillips," said an ominous voice from somewhere above him.

The boy edged further away, against the door, hitting it as he did so.

"Looking for Dr Morgan?" Mr Sullivan asked. "He's not in today. So, off you go."

Kenny gaped back up at him.

"Kenny, did you hear what I said?"

He thought rapidly. "Uh. No, sir?"

"Ah. Deaf, are we? That would explain a lot."

"Sir?"

"Kenny, _go_. Stop loitering in the corridor. Scram. Have I made myself clear?"

The stocky, dark-haired first year thought about it, and then shook his head.

*

"Well, it's not my fault you got detention," said Lynda later, with a shrug. "I got my book back, so that's all right."

Kenny glowered at her. "Next time, Lynda, don't read it in Biology."

"I don't see why I shouldn't, not if Morgan can't be bothered to actually teach us anything interesting."

***

 **Third Year Lesson**

"Any comments?" asked Sullivan of the class. "Yes, Kenny, did I see your hand raised?"

Kenny glanced from one side of him to the other but nobody else had their hand up, either, so Sullivan hadn't mistaken him for someone else.

"Anything to say?"

He let his mouth fall open as he stared back in dumb horror.

"For someone who manages to write some intelligent essays, how is it that you always seem so gormless in person?" he returned. "Kenny, I'm asking for your opinion. Optimistic of me, perhaps, but humour me."

To the left of him, Andy Holland suddenly gave a yell and slid under the table, his chair skidding backwards.

"How many times must I tell you kids not to tilt your chairs?" said Sullivan, with a sigh. "I don't mind if you break your necks, but your parents may, and the school can't afford to replace the furniture."

In the seat behind Andy, Lynda pulled her chair further in under the desk, and held her pen ready to write, an angelic look on her face, as she put her hand up. "Sir, _I've_ got a question."

"Why doesn't _that_ surprise me?" murmured the English teacher. "Yes, Lynda?"

*

"Bill," said Jean, the school nurse. "What did you send that poor boy to me for?"

Sullivan turned. "Kenny Phillips? Merely wondering if he needed to see a speech therapist. The boy's barely said two words to me since he started here."

"He can talk perfectly well," she informed him. "As I'm sure you knew. Perhaps you could consider that your sarcasm alarms some of the pupils in future – before you go wasting my time. There are quite a few of the younger ones who believe you're an ogre."

Sullivan laughed. "I doubt it. Anyway, it'll do them good!"

*

Mr Winters frowned over the piles of paperwork in front of him. "If you have a suggestion about the timetable, Bill, you should speak to Miss Hessop."

"Only saying," Mr Sullivan returned, with a grin. "I think it would be beneficial if next year we separated Kenny Phillips and Lynda Day wherever possible. I'd like to see him stand on his own two feet – find out whether he's a master at copying work, or, as I suspect, might actually have an idea or two in that head of his, despite appearances."

The headmaster paused. "That's odd. Rosemary was in here a few moment ago, suggesting the opposite."

"And may I ask why?"

"It appears that there are significantly fewer 'incidents' with Lynda in classes she shares with Kenny Phillips. And, given that I've had staff threatening to resign at her correcting their grammar, spelling and punctuation -." Winters shook his head and drew in his breath. "Only yesterday, Miss Jenkins was in tears over it."

"Never," said Mr Sullivan, straight-faced. "Well, Lynda _is_ very bright -."

Mr Winters frowned. "Speak to Rosemary, Bill, but I don't think she'll change the grand plan on a whim. Funny, though – I don't even know which one is Phillips."

"No," said Sullivan. "You wouldn't. That was my point."

***

 **Sixth Form Enterprise**

Kenny paced up and down Sullivan's pathway, rehearsing what to say. _You're in the sixth-form now_ , he told himself. _Assistant editor. No need to go to pieces._ "Mr Sullivan," he practised. "About your sewage -."

His teacher emerged before he finished. and paused on the doorstep, evidently wondering why there was an unwanted pupil standing in his way.

"Hello, Mr Sewage," said Kenny.

Some things never changed.


End file.
